


Gunsmoke

by Karwin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Power system, RPG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 05:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karwin/pseuds/Karwin
Summary: In a world of guns and monsters, only the mad dare try to face the Great Beasts. But perhaps a little madness is good for the soul. (Lemons will be included separate to the base work).





	Gunsmoke

Gunslinger, Sniper, Heavy, Assault, and Dragoon. In this world, those who take it upon themselves to leave the safe confines of their town and venture into the beastly world around must select one of these.

Once done, the world itself sees to it that they stick to their class. Mind you, adventurers aren't the only who are bound by the rules of the world's game.

Every human born has a level of course. It's said that you've not truly eaten until you've had food from a level 70 chef, nor experienced art until viewing it from one who's spend enough time grinding out said skill tree.

But beyond a normal town, if one wishes to survive, they need either a gun, or a friend with one. The old have learned not only the rules of this world, but also the laws of it, the 'unofficial' rules, as they're known.

Things like not to waste your life trying to reach level 100, not letting a klutz become a heavy, not to underestimate the seduction skills of monsters in the wild nor dwell on where the dungeon appeared from. And most of all, not to ever dare being so dense as to try battling the Great Beasts.

Those old foes of man had walked since memory began, and had proven themselves unkillable time and time again. Ten were known to exist in full, no continent was fully free of a Great Beast's territory, and when one was linger near your home, it was best to simply avoid your home.

One might have an easier time persuading the waves of a tsunami to turn back or the flames of a wildfire to halt than protecting themselves or their belongings from the wrath of a Great Beast.

So you can imagine the mix of comedy and disappointment felt whenever someone declared their intention to face on. When Hiro entered the Shale City tavern, he could feel the judgment around him before he even declared his intentions.

Hiro Pwotai Gonisht was a Gunslinger, and as much as he wished not to play into his class' stereotypes, he knew he would need a group to help him if he was ever to complete the goal he had set for himself.

He strolled into the tavern and took a seat at the bar, the tender looking to him in anticipation of what he would say, hoping the boy would just ask for a drink but knowing he wouldn't.

“Do you know anyone around who'd be willing to join a party of sorts?” Hiro asked, “I've got something of an adventure planned, and am needing a little help finding comrades.”

The bartender sighed, “What level are ya kid?” He questioned.

“3 at the moment,” Hiro said, “Leveling up will happen on the journey of course, I don't mind the levels of anyone who wishes to come along.”

He wasn't technically wrong, but that statement came with too many asterisks for the bartender to even bother with it.

“What's the mission?” He asked instead, figuring that would get the ball rolling faster.

“I intend to slay Humbaba.” Hiro said confidently.

The bar fell completely silent around him as his words permeated through it like fog. All eyes turned to the young Gunslinger, giving him an uncomfortably 'on the stop' feeling. He'd known it would come and he accepted it whole hog, but that didn't make it feel good.

“You're level 3,” The bartender reminded him, “And from the looks of it you've just got a basic revolver and iron dagger.”

“For now, yes,” Hiro admitted, “But these are changeable things.”

“Perhaps,” The tender agreed, “But the Great Beasts are not.”

“That's what everyone seems to believe,” Hiro says, “But everything that lives dies at some point. The great beasts, Humbaba, are no different.” The name of the continent's Great Beast had now been said twice more than it had ever been said in the tavern before. Most businessmen wished to keep their patrons happy and calm, a bar even more so.

As you can imagine, the name of Humbaba, who's words burned what heard them, and who's breath was blight, the two hundred foot high Goliath who could and indeed had level entire cities as an afterthought, was not something that tended to keep the peace.

But here Hiro was, declaring his attention with no hesitation.

“Planning a Humbaba's Raid are you?” The bartender joked, a small spark of laughter flaring up around him.

The term had become an expression of speech around Shale, referring to an impossible task on account of Humbaba's sixty league sense of hearing and seven layers of armor.

Hiro, face starting to heat up but unwilling to back down, shook his head, “No, not a raid,” He said, “As I said, I intend to defeat Humbaba. Not alone mind you, I'm not mental.”

“Coulda fooled us.” One of the other men sitting in the bar muttered, flaring much more chuckles around them.

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call it smart,” another, younger than the men but elder than Hiro, and a dragoon if the rifle on his back was any indication, said as the eyes moved to him, “But not for intention. Its like trying to cut your grass with a butter knife. The grass does need to be cut, just probably better to find a mower.”

“Well as I said, I am hoping to do some training,” Hiro pointed out, “If I can find anyone to go along with at least.” The Dragoon looked from Hiro to the men around the tavern and back, “Only a level 4 I’ll admit, but it does sound like it’d be a grand adventure.”

“Naturally,” the Gunslinger said with a hopeful smile, “None have yet slain a Great Beast, so as the first, the party that accomplishes it will be remembered always.”

“Presuming they aren’t flattened into a fine paste.” The bartender added.

“Has anyone in this bar ever tried to?” The dragoon questioned.

“Well no, we haven’t tried fist fighting hurricanes either.” Someone said.

The dragoon snorted, “I’m not convinced this Humbaba is a hurricane, perhaps something more like a wildfire. Something that can happen naturally yes, but quite fightable if you’ve got the proper equipment.”

“My thoughts precisely.” Hiro agreed.

“If it is possible,” came a female voice from across the bar. Eyes turned to the dark skinned girl, marked as a heavy by the belt of grenades she wore, ”You’d need a high damage dealer to get around that armor.”

“Certainly would,” Hiro said without hesitation, looking from the dragoon to the heavy and trying to hide his excitement, “Though we’d also need support as well.”

“What kind?” Came a smooth, calming voice from the door. How long after Hiro this new person had come in, no one was sure. It was entirely possible that they’d just heard the question alone with nothing of its context.

They had smooth skin that almost seemed to glow in the tavern’s dim light, and shoulder length hair tied back into a ponytail.

They carried a shotgun, marking them as an Assault class, and as they walked in to get a better look at the three who contemplated battling Humbaba, everyone watching them had their own guess as to what gender they were, their features too generally… epicene, to put it politely, to be sure.

The three looked to the Assault class, the dragoon speaking before Hiro could, “Well, we’d need someone mobile of course,” The dragoon said, “And an Assault would be good for that.”

“How about an Assault who can work a med kit?” They asked with a smirk.

“Even better frankly.” Hiro said. The Gunslinger looked to the bartender smugly, “Seems I’ve got a functional party up and running already.”

“You’re one shy of a real party.” The bartender pointed out.

“Well, technically,” same a sniper from the table nearest the bar. She was sitting alone, and not even drinking anything, just inspecting the parts of her firearm, “Four could still function as one, if less efficiently than a group of all five classes.”

Her eyes glowed gently as it looked over the pieces, the mechanical nature of it apparently from it. “You ain’t thinkin’ a joining this lot are ya?” The bartender questioned incredulously.

The sniper looked up and looked to the group, “You know, I actually hadn’t considered it, but now that you mentioned it. Impossible or no, it’s certain to be better than the fuck nothing I’m up to currently.”

The bartender laughed at this, “I think that’s a better reason than any of these four have for it.” He said, returning to his work as Hiro greeted his new teammates, not entirely believing his luck at the moment.


End file.
